Sunday, January 31, 2010

A Lesson on Grief pt.1

I have been participating in state training for a rape crisis team I am volunteering for and I have learned some amazing things. One of the guest speakers who came to talk to the trainees was a Rec. Therapist. She had our group participate in all these different activities together in order to become closer as a whole and after we would participate in each activity she would open up a group discussion by asking us what specific events stood out to us during the activity, and why? The first activity we participated in was a picture activity. She would hold up a 5"x6" card with a picture on it from a different angle and we were supposed to talk about what it was we were looking at. The pictures ranged anything from laundry spinning in the dryer taken from the perspective of one of the articles of clothing, to staring up from the bottom of a hole with a rope dangling from the top. The pictures, depending on how you looked at them, could come across as so many different images, and it wasn't until we all started discussing, in detail, what we saw that the group would finally come to the same conclusion as to what we were looking at. The question was asked of us, "What does this have to do with grief?" What I learned from this lesson was that grief looks different to everyone, grief takes on so many different forms, and regardless of how many times grief is explained to us, it still isn't always clear.

I have a competitive spirit and so whenever a new picture was shown, I wanted to be the first to answer correctly what the image was and so I found myself desperately trying to take in the entire picture all at once and not zoning in on one specific thing and then processing the image from there. What I noticed as I did this was that I was feeling panicked and confused. Everyone was talking at the same time and I was trying to take in everything they were saying, as well as trying to understand it from my perspective. It didn't work and I was panicking. Have you ever gone to a museum and you see those people who stand in front of the same piece of artwork for what seems like forever and then they go to move, but instead of going to another piece, they step a couple of steps to the right and step back and continue staring at the same piece? Meanwhile, you are half way through the exhibit. What are they staring at? Grief is like a massive painting with delicate detail. You look at the masterpiece that is Grief and there is no way you can internalize it all at the same time; rather it can take moments, minutes, hours, days, months, but most of the time it can take years of coming back to the same moment- the same picture- to look at it from a different angle to try and understand it from a different perspective. And, in it's own right, grief is beautiful and sacred like the most cherished pieces of art.

Everyone has grieved. Whether you are grieving the demise of your lucky soccer shirt, or you are grieving the death of your dearest friend, everyone has grieved. No one experiences grief the same, which is why grief is a masterpiece, because it is of your own creation and lasts as long as you need it to last, it is your own. And like everyone in the group, all describing what they saw in the pictures at the very same time and trying to make sense of it, grief is confusing. And, like me, trying to take in the image all at once while listening to the chaos around me confusing my own understanding of what it is I was seeing, grief cannot be rushed. There is no medal at the finish line. There is no finsih line, rather, the race just gets easier with time and eventually you no longer notice what place you are in, or who is ahead of you, but you start to notice the beauty of what is occurring around and within you. When you are with someone who is grieving, don't talk at them, don't tell them what to expect to have happen, don't make false statements that one day soon they will feel better, and never suggest that they should be done with it and move on. Share with them, if they ask, what grief was like for you and that it's okay to be confused. They might not ask you anything at all and that's okay because they need time to internalize what has happened and life doesn't always have to be filled with dialogue. Sometimes, life needs to be felt, and feeling doesn't involve speaking, so in times like these, sit with them, hold their hand, and let them cry or not cry, whatever they do, let them do it because that is their unique expression of pain and there is nothing wrong with it. Don't confuse them with the process, because the explanation of the process is just a bunch of meaningless words and it can confuse them if they even hear what you are saying.

Last of all, for this post anyway, grief isn't wrong. During the picture activity, someone would say what they thought the image was and another person would chime in, "Are you crazy? It's not a drinking fountain! Can't you see that it's a straw looking up to the opening of a soda can?!" Well, no, they couldn't see that and there isn't anything wrong with them for not seeing that. It is easy for some people to look in on someone grieving and to wonder how long they'll do it for and why are they still grieving, it's already been long enough since [insert trauma] happened, hasn't it? No, grief doesn't have a specific finishing time. It is also easy to tell someone who is grieving why they shouldn't because, "Can't you understand that [insert name] is in a better place now? He's happier, you should feel peace knowing that. He wouldn't want you to feel sad, he would want you to be happy, so be happy." Grief would be so easy if that were the case, but we are human, and being human is complicated and so we aren't able to, simply, turn off our sorrow. While one person may feel peace knowing that their loved one is, "in a better place"; to someone else, that loved one was the father of their children and their husband and best friend and they will never see them again in this realm, so, they don't feel happy that he is, "in a better place," because according to them, that "better place" was safe, at home with their family. And, now home feels empty and cold because it isn't filled with the life-force that was their loved one, rather it is filled with their memory in the mug that they drank their coffee from every morning, and the drity clothes hamper that is empty with pile of dirty laundry that "loved one" never put in the hamper, but instead left on the floor next to the hamper and that used to upset grieving person who now feels bad for all the arguments shared over that pile of clothing . Grief is not the same for everyone and can not be forced to completion, neither does it last for the duration for them as it did for you. Grief varies as many times as there are people on this planet and does not end just because, "It's been long enough".

Friday, January 29, 2010

We Are Strength

I have been thinking a lot about education and my past schooling and how many times I have re-declared my major. When I started University back in high school, I was a pre-med major. I wanted to become a nurse. My Great-Grandmother was a nurse and I've always looked up to her. She wanted to be a nurse for the Army but was too young at the time of enrollment. She became a nurse and did many wonderful things over the course of her career, including bringing about the kinder treatment of patients in the State Hospital who, at the time, were not treated fairly in comparison to your regular hospital patients. I have always looked up to my Great-Grandmother for all the amazing things she did in her life and I always wanted to make the world a better place like she did and so I wanted to become a nurse. I didn't have the understanding at the age of 16 like I do now, that you can affect great change in the world in other ways than nursing. It turned out that I don't like the sight of other people's blood, as I kept passing out during my clinical hours whenever I would see someone else's bodily fluids. That's when I changed my major to English Literature with an emhpasis in Secondary Education and Creative Writing.

I was 18 years old when I figured that I would affect great change in the world by educating the young mind's of tomorrow's generation. It was a great idea, I thought. As I began to metriculate in to the Bachelor's Program, however, I realized that I am too much of an idealist for that career and that, ultimately, I would burn myself out trying to teach my students to love and appreciate English as I do and, quite frankly, not everyone is an English nut like I am. Not everyone takes immense pleasure in analyzing a piece of text 8 different ways using specific critical theories to understand said text. That, and I hate the public school system with a passion that is next to spiritual observation. I could not ever bring myself to work for a broken system that has no moral qualms about handing out condoms to young adolescent's, but won't teach them the concept of abstinence because it takes away the rights of the student's to choose for themselves, and it's better to be safe than sorry so, pass out the condoms. I ask you one question, what is wrong with teaching students sexual education and safety AS WELL AS abstinence, that way at least they will be as informed about the matter as one can be in such circumstances. I would hate myself if I worked for a system I knew was broken. I also do not possess the serenity that is needed to take abuse from parent's whose children are "perfect in every way", and regardless of the fact that they are truant and failing my class, it's my fault and a "personal vendetta of mine to make their child fail at life". Take responsibility parent's and understand that, teenagers are lazy and often-times don't function properly and it is not up to the public school system to rear respectful and successful human beings, it's your's, you are the parent. And, you really want a system that is actively handing out condoms to your 15 year old son/daughter, to be in charge of making them succeed in today's sick, twisted world. Take accountability and don't blame the teachers.

I am now considering a career in Social work, but before I re-declare my major, yet again, I am going to get some experience in the field as a volunteer to see if it is something I really want to do. I am lucky to be able to participate in being trained as a Rape Crisis Volunteer. It is a team of 32 individuals who meet with people in crisis who have just been made victim to the horribly personal violation that is rape. The training is a mandatory 40 hours training through the state and I thought it was going to be really boring, but I have learned so much and am so thankful for what I have learned so far. This week is the first week of training and I have learned so much, all of which I am going to be sharing in upcoming posts, but one thing I want to mention now before I end this post (because I am at work and should probably be working?) is that, regardless of the trials we face and the things that happen to us because of someone else's decision, we are not weak. Anyone who is the victim of a crime will understand me when I say that, you will try to understand why this horrible thing was done to you and what you could have done differently to have prevented it from happening. Those thoughts kill the soul. If you have been a victim of a crime, it wasn't your fault it happened to you because it was something that was DONE to you. You survived it, you are a survivor and there is so much empowerment that comes from that statement. True, you've been thrown into a path you never would have chosen for yourself and now you've got to adapt to the new life that is your's because you don't feel like you are the same person, but you survived. Regardless of whatever you had to do to survive, you survived. This message isn't solely meant for only those who have been victim's of crime, but for anyone that has ever faced a moment in their life where they have asked themselves the questions, "Why did this happen to me? Where do I go from here? How do I make it out of this? What have I done?" Grief is just that: a curve ball thrown by life, you finding yourself in a situation you would have never planned to be in and then trying to figure out how to get back to normal, whatever normal is. We are all survivors and there is nothing wrong with that. Survival is strength. We are strength.

Monday, January 25, 2010

What time is it?

I have to wake up in 3 hours and I haven't slept, yet. I can't sleep. I have so many thoughts running through my head. I want to be married and I want to be pregnant again. I don't know how to not be pregnant. I felt calm while I was pregnant and now I just feel anxious... anxious all the time. I don't sleep and when I do, it isn't deep sleep, in fact I wake up in the morning even more tired than I was the night before. I'm exhausted and too worked up to calm down to drift into slumber and it's maddening. I have to go to work tomorrow to work with client's who are in high conflict divorce cases and trying to royally screw their ex because, Lord knows why, and they feel justified so no amount of reasoning them through their idiocy will work... not even the fact that their poor innocent children who did not have a say in anything that is going wrong in their life are being affected by their parent's anger and bitterness towards their other parent. I need a new job. I need a guy that will stick around and not use me, but love me instead. I need to move on, but the thought of moving on makes my stomach ache because it feels like abandonment. I miss my baby boy. I want to kiss the top of his head and stroke his face tenderly with my fingers as he drifts off into sleep. I want to feel him sleeping on my chest as I breathe in his scent of earthy cinnamon maple. I want to hold him again. I miss my baby boy.

Sunday, January 24, 2010

Weekly Wisdom

"My mission in life is not merely to survive, but to thrive; and to do so with some passion, some compassion, some humor, and some style."

-Maya Angelou

Sunday, January 17, 2010

Weekly Wisdom

"There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all of time, this expression is unique. And, if you block it , it will never exist through any other medium and it will be lost. The world will not have it... you do not even have to believe in yourself... You have to keep yourself open and aware to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open... [There is] no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others."

-Martha Graham

Being the Other Mother

I have always loved religious hymns. I have played the piano for 14 years now and piano players were hard to come by in my family ward where I grew up and so when I was 14 years old I was given a calling in my church to play for the ward choir. Since that time, I have now played for 4 ward choirs and I love church hymns. A lot of people turn to the scriptures when they are going through hard times, but I've always resorted to reading hymns, which to me are like prayers. True, I need to read my scriptures more often, and in doing so I know I will be granted spiritual insight from my father in heaven, but for the time being, I turn to the hymns.

Today, the Sunday School lesson was talking about how we are created in the image of our Heavenly Father. The hymn we sang at the opening of class was, "O, My Father." I've always loved this song, but the third verse particularly stuck out to me today as I've been thinking a lot about motherhood, lately. It goes, "I had learned to call thee Father, thru thy spirit from on high. But, until the key of knowledge was restored, I knew not why. In the heavens are parents single? No, the thought makes reason stare! Truth is reason; reason eternal tells me I've a mother there." I have never spent a lot of time thinking about a heavenly mother and today, at the close of this hymn, tears were streaming from my eyes.

I've had so much anxiety lately thinking about being away from my son, and that's to be expected because I love him and I miss him. Along with this anxiety, I've experienced so much frustration with myself because I know that baby boy is better off growing up in a household with two parent's who can provide for him. But, the anxiety is still there, and that is frustrating to me. So, like this explanation, I've been caught in this circle of anxiety and frustration, and this last week and a half has been a hard one. Worrying about the safety and happiness and well-being of your child comes along with the title of parent, regardless of whether or not you are parenting your child. Once you have a baby, your life will never be the same, you will always be striving to achieve the best for your baby. Eventually that baby becomes a child, and that child becomes an adolescent; and eventaully that adolescent becomes an adult and with each new stage of life, they are granted more power in directing the path of their own life. The recognition of this knowledge brings about more concern for the parent involved because, as a parent, you always worry whether or not you taught them enough of the good to get them through the difficult. Having explained all of this, I can't imagine how our mother in heaven must feel.

I believe that in the place we were before this life, there came a time where our heavenly parent's were faced with this same dilemma. Eventually, their children (me and you) came to a point in their development where they had to be let go so that they could incoporate the lessons they were taught into their own lives and in order for this to happen, they needed to be seperated from their parent's for a time. Of course, their parent's are always there for them to turn to, but it's different from when they were little because now the problems and hurts are bigger and more lasting, and all the parent's can do is watch from a distance, so to speak, constantly praying and hoping that their child's latest hurt won't be so devastating that the child can't find their way back to the parent.

I miss my heavenly mother. I can't wait to see her again and to be held by her and comforted and just like a toddler explaining a horrifying dream to their mother who is holding them, I will explain to her the difficulties I faced here and she will comfort me and tell me that I am safe at home in her arms and she will stroke my hair and tell me that she loves me and I will already know this because she is my other mother. I am blessed to have a mother like this here with me, a woman who I can always turn to when I'm weary with life's "stuff" and who always tells me how capable I am to make it through what I'm going through, even if I don't believe in myself... especially when I don't believe in myself.

I think that there are many people out there who don't understand the delicacies that come along with being a birth mother. I think that many people expect that the disconnection between a birth mother and her child happens at the moment of placement and that with placement, all the emotions and worries no longer occur because she is no longer the mother. This couldn't be further from the truth. I may not be raising my son, but I worry about him every second of every day. It hurts me to think that there will come times in his life when he will feel sorrow and pain and that I won't be able to be there to comfort him and help him through it. Instead, I will "watch" him from afar, praying and hoping for him to know joy and peace, and always hoping that his hurts won't be so devastating that he won't come back from them. I will always worry about him and I will always take immense pride in his accomplishments. I will always share his same pains and sorrows because he is my child and I am his mother, his other mother.

Thursday, January 14, 2010

Making sense out of the insane

Yesterday morning I woke up and was laying in bed afraid to start the day. I laid there for the longest time thinking about the approaching day and all that needed to be done, and everywhere I needed to be and I felt exhausted just thinking about it all. So, I laid there. I didn't go to the gym and when it became absolutely necessary for me to climb out of bed to get ready for work, I did it with an apprehension that was tangible.

Have you ever had the feeling that you shouldn't get out of bed? A feeling that, if you get out of bed, all sorts of bad will befall you that day? That's how I felt yesterday morning. And, maybe that thought alone is what set the tone for the day, because yesterday was not a day I would like to relive ever. By the time I got home from work, I felt like I had got home from war. I sat in my car and cried silent, angry tears and went inside to freshen up before I had to leave the safety of home to go out into the world again to show a bunch of people my apartment, in hopes that one of them would take over my contract because I'm moving. Did I tell you that? I decided to move last week... to the other side of town. By the time I got home last night, I felt like a refugee being taken in by a safe and protective host country... my sister and her family. When I got home last night, I did something I haven't done since I was five years old, I climbed in bed, threw the covers over my head and hid... and cried. It felt safe there in the dark. I felt untouchable and hidden.

My alarm went off this morning and I slept through it. My brother called me from Finland and I slept through it. I was exhausted. When I reluctantly pulled myself out of bed I felt like I was walking to the gallows. At work today I made myself sick with stress. Literally. I have an anxiety disorder that is intense. I literally became so stressed that I couldn't stand up straight, my stomach hurt so bad- then my head started to pound- and I started to feel dizzy. The worst, though, is when my spine feels like it is trying to trade places with my sternum and I breathe in gasps of air. I started to shake and nearly vomitted. That's when my co-worker told me to go home. She thought I had caught the stomach flu from another co-worker, I call her Wednesday virus girl, because she is always sick on Wednesday... and then Wednesday turned in to every day- she's never at work. I left work early and I came home to my sister's house and I wasted time. And then I went and worked out at the gym. And, now, I can breathe. I'm not going in to work tomorrow.

I never expected that I would feel this out of control. I knew that I would grieve after placing my baby boy for adoption, but I never expected this. I feel like I am going insane. That's not a comfortable feeling. My jaw and my teeth hurt because I've been gritting them at night. I don't sleep solid anymore, unless it's from exhaustion. I don't know how to be me. I feel like I need to come with a disclaimer, "Warning: may start to cry uncontrollably and then blame you for her emotions." I feel like people know I'm broken, but they don't know why. I want to scream at them, "I let my baby go!" As if they could even comprehend the soul-shattering consequence of that choice. I feel like I am aimlessly wandering, looking for a safe place to be because I don't feel safe, I feel... like I've died, and I have, but now I'm this body without a soul looking for a place that feels safe and I can't find it. And, this is all so horribly depressing and I'm sorry for that. Sometimes, I feel like it would be easier to just give in to the insanity that is raging inside of me, insanity that is so close to breaking through the surface that it scares me. I can still hear my baby's cry and I panic when I hear other babies cry because they aren't my baby and I don't know how to hold them or comfort them and I'm disgusted with myself that I can't do that. For a while there I was doing real well. I was coping very well.

Everything has come and gone so fast that I feel like I was frozen, still, in a whirlwind... one day I was pregnant and now I'm not. One day I could feel my child move and now he's gone. For a second I heard him cry and now it's just a memory. I used to be ashamed to be pregnant and now I don't know how to be myself not pregnant. For Halloween I was a cat that ate a mouse and I was afraid that I would be in the hospital delivering on Thanksgiving day... I really wanted to eat turkey, what a selfish thought. And then it was Christmas and it's the coldest winter I've ever felt, yet it hasn't snowed near as much as it did in 2008, so that doesn't make any sense. I still write October on everything, because that's when I was alive. I'm just trying to make sense of it all.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Dear Sweetheart,

Today you are 2 months old. The aching inside my heart feels heavier each day and I miss you more and more as the seconds pass. I will always love you. You are the best thing that ever happened to me. I do not regret your existence for one second. You are my joy and my hope. You are safe and loved by your family and that is all any mother could ever hope for her child. I love you, my darling, sweet, angelic baby boy.

Love,

your birth mother

Sunday, January 10, 2010

Weekly Wisdom

Every Sunday I am going to post a quote for the upcoming week that I want to focus on. It's a weekly homework assignment that my personal trainer has given me. Every week I am to come up with a quote for that week. I am calling it my "Weekly Wisdom". This week's quote is something that has been on my mind.

"You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, 'I have lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.' You must do the thing you think you cannot do."
-Eleanor Roosevelt

We've all had difficulties in our lives, but we've survived them and there is strength in this. When you become afraid that you will fail at something, or you start doubting yourself when faced with hardship, remember the struggles you've faced in the past and take heart from them that you are capable to work through the one you are facing now. God trusts us with the hardships he gives us and knowing this brings the greatest strength. If God trusts us with the trials he has given us, then we must also trust ourselves to survive them and to survive them well.

I am strength. And so are you.

Thursday, January 7, 2010

the ocean inside of me

"No warning sign, no alibi, we faded faster than the speed of light- took our chance, crashed and burned, no we'll never ever learn. I fell apart, but got back up again and then I fell apart, but got back up again..."-- Alibi by 30 Seconds to Mars

Grief is like the ocean. I am floating and at peace with the depth that my life has become and at times I am intimidated that I can't see the bottom, but I continue to float. Sometimes the water gets restless and I become anxious, but I am never overcome. And I float. And sometimes the sky becomes angry and rains down on me and I can only stare into the face of it's anger, fully understanding it's rage, but not able to ignore it because the rain will come and there is no stopping it. And I float. Then there are the times where the sea inside of me will not be calmed
and I am swallowed whole by it's waves. These waves come and they overpower and I struggle to reach the top. I struggle. I struggle to keep my head above the water, all the while holding my breath because it hurts to breathe in the wave. As quickly as the wave comes, it ceases and I am left weak in it's aftermath, no longer able to move a muscle and so I float. I float in the silence of the sea that swells inside of me, never knowing when it will overcome me again.

I will always love you my dear, sweet, angelic baby boy.

Love,

your birth mother

Saturday, January 2, 2010

Recognizing Fear

Fear is something that I've always thought about. When I was younger, it was easier to recognize what I was afraid of, the list inclded, but was not limited to: a green monster I thought lived in Loafer Mountain overshadowing the canyon I grew up in, Malifiscent (spelling?) from Sleeping Beauty, getting lost, being stolen from my family, and riding on carousels. All very easy to recognize. When I was a child, I was full of life and imagination and dreams. I knew exactly what I wanted to be when I grew up and that was a rockstar named Hot Pink who worked with animals on the side and in her spare time was discovering the cre for all the world's maladies. I wanted world peace and my favorite song to sing was Michael Jackson's, "Heal the World". I lived in a canyon between two mountains and so my imagination was extreme. I would spend my days exploring the mountains and creating worlds to live in and come dinner time, I would go home and eat and then dream about those worlds come the night time. The next day I would do it all over again.



I don't know when it happened, or the events that led up to it happening in the first place, but eventually my imagination became less and less inspiring and more and more logical, therefore not imagination at all. Somewhere along the line of childhood to now, I grew up and there is nothing wrong with that, what is wrong is that along with the disappearance of my imagination, went my dreams and I stuck with what I knew I could do and stopped attempting what I couldn't do and wasn't sure I could do and I stopped trying. When it came time to learn new things, beit in school, work, church, any aspect of my life, I would become anxious and self-conscious and afraid. I can recall having many discussions relating to fear over the last 10 years with variou people. At the conclusion of these discussions, I would always be asked the same question, "What is it you are afraid of?" And I would always answer the same answer, "Nothing" because I didn't know what I was afraid of and that scared me. Eventually I started to explain away my fear by using various examples of times when I did something that would intimidate other's... but intimidation and fear are two different beasts.

Becoming a grown up is hard to do, well, it's not hard to do because it happens naturally, but it's hard to adapt to. Life becomes more difficult and complicated and, more often than not the people who come and go in your life leave you with a confused aftertaste, and the relationships with the people who you love and rely on, the most, get tested and change and become beautifully different, but you know they'll never be what they once were even though you are always hoping for 'what once was'. And you, you are trying to adapt and come out unscathed. What's wrong with admitting you are scared in the first place? I used to think that fear was weak, but it isn't. What was weak was my inability to understand that fear existed in my life and to figure out what that fear was and overcome it. Instead I hid and stopped trying.

I have a tremendous fear of failing so I don't try. Instead I settle for substandard and allow that to become my life. So, when substandard becaome your life, you become disgusted with yourself that you don't dare to achieve more, and you tell yourself that you couldn't acheive more or something greater even if you tried because you're not good enough. Fear morphs into inability which morphs into disappointment which is discouraging. My fear, that I wouldn't recognize, turned in to my not daring to try anything because I "knew" I couldn't do it, and from that came disappointment that my life was not turning out the way I remembered hoping it would and that's discouraging which would lead to my fear of trying different things. I know this is all horribly confusing, so let me for-instance an example for you. The easiest example for me will be to relate it to why I stay in relationships that aren't healthy for me and why I am not able to cut the cord when I recognize that they are going no where but bad. If you've read any of the previous posts, you know the type of relationships that I've been in and they are pretty scary and went from bad to worse. I stayed in these relationships because I was afraid of the alternative. Part of my fear of the alternative was that I didn't know what that alternative was. Whenever I would allow myself to have the tiniest bit of insight and recognize that I deserve better, I still wouldn't go after "better" because "better" wouldn't want me so why try? And so, I would stay with what I had and what I had was bad and the fact that I was staying with it was discouraging, so the next time "bad" came along I would go along with it because I was afraid to try something different.

You've heard the saying, "the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results" well, maybe fear and insanity are cousins. The ironic thing about all of this is that, Fear, the thing I was trying the hardest to not allow in to my life, was the thing itself that was leading my life. You can't fix what you don't know is broken, and if it is you that is broken, you aren't going to get fixed without recognizing that something is wrong and fear is wrong, it is horribly wrong to do to yourself, but it can be fixed, you just have to try something different.

What I know about myself: I am afraid of failure so I don't try, which is a form of failing. Knowing this means it can be fixed. I will succeed at fixing my fear because I am no longer afraid of success. I can achieve anything that I set out to do, maybe not right away, but eventually and only if I don't give up because I'm afraid to try it again. Fear is a construct of my own mind, it is not the defining factor of who I am and courage is found by understanding this. In 2010, I will no longer allow fear to define who I am, I am not fear, I am courage and strength. The beauty of these words is that they are not too brave for how I feel because I believe every single one of them.